


flicker

by goosedown



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 16:43:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1096221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goosedown/pseuds/goosedown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wants the Blue Beetle to kill him. He wants to look into those yellow-amber lenses while he’s dying so that he’ll know for sure that Jaime's gone. Jaime never would have wanted this. The one thing worse than Khaji Da taking over would be for Jaime to be trapped behind those damnable yellow eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	flicker

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a while back in an art/fic exchange with super talented artist Radio (www.testchambers.tumblr.com). You should all go check out the awesome art, especially the piece from the exchange (it's bloody, though, and it'll break your heart for sure): http://testchambers.tumblr.com/post/43476219794/hm-hey-cumbersassbutt-a-little-something-for. Special thanks to the wonderful Alessandra (angelfallcollection on tumblr) for betaing.
> 
> It's a hair violent at parts, so you're triggered by blood or gore, this might not be the fic for you. Otherwise, read on. I hope you like it!
> 
> By the way, I don't own Young Justice. If I did, we'd at least have a season three.

"No more running."

Bart is met by Dick’s weary blink. He clarifies - 

"Not for me, anyway. I’m done."

 Bart supposes it’s not really fair to say it  _now_ , when Dick can’t even speak anymore and has those scars spiderwebbing across his throat. 

But it’s true; he can’t do it anymore. The running, the hiding, the  _hurt_  when he sees Ja - no,  _The_   _Blue Beetle_  in the sky. 

He knows where the Beetles are. It’s not as if they need to hide, anyway; Bart’s seen the future. He knows they’re just cleaning up scraps before enslaving those who cannot or will not fight. He knows no one here can fight the Reach’s rising tide, and he knows that Dick knows it, too.

That’s why he’s not surprised when Dick just nods and watches him leave.

—-

There’s no reason to say goodbye to anyone else; they’ll be dead soon and he doesn’t want to feel anything now. It’s all his fault, for getting emotionally compromised and becoming  _part of the fucking team_  and  _falling in love_  and he can’t think about  _that,_  of all things, because it’ll hurt too much.

If he thinks about it enough, the crater in his chest will ache and ache and ache until he sinks to his knees and dies on his own and he  _won’t_  do that. He almost did already, but Gar had picked him up and dragged him back to the ravine.

Gar died that night. M’Gann, the night after. 

He wants the Blue Beetle to kill him. He wants to look into those yellow-amber lenses while he’s dying so that he’ll know for sure that  _Jaime_ 's gone.  _Jaime_ never would have wanted this. The one thing worse than Khaji Da taking over would be for Jaime to be trapped behind those damnable yellow eyes.

—-

Bart doesn’t cry anymore. The tears stopped around six months ago. He almost misses the crying, really; sometimes, he could imagine  _Jaime_ 's arms around him,  _Jaime_ 's voice in his ear,  _"No lloras, cariño, no lloras, te amo te amo te amo"_  and he didn’t care that it made the tears flow more quickly, because Jaime was there and they were  _together_  and everything would be all right.

The earth doesn’t cry anymore, either. Everything is dust. Once he had seen Gotham and Star City and Central City and New York and Qurac and London and Beijing and Rome and Dehli and all the little places in between, he didn’t think they could possibly become the dust of his future. 

 _Wrong, wrong, wrong_. Just like how he thought he could kill Jaime Reyes and prevent him from becoming the Blue Beetle. 

It’s funny, really, Bart thinks as he speeds across the desert, how quickly everything can turn to dust.

—-

The dust coats his throat as he tries to deceive the Reach’s sensors by creating a tornado around The Blue Beetle. He’s fast, faster than any of the other speedsters were. If he runs fast enough, the wind in his ears blocks out its gurgling taunts. 

He should have kissed him when he could. That night at Mount Justice, when it was just the two of them in the kitchen and they were sharing that gallon of ice cream and Jaime looked so  _happy_  and a million butterflies dueled in Bart’s stomach. He remembers thinking that it would have tasted sweet, like mint and chocolate and Jaime, and that he didn’t know what the last tasted like but was sure it would have been the best of all. 

But there’s no time for ifs, not now, not when the Blue Beetle has him stapled to a wall and is  _laughing_. 

—- 

Bart doesn’t know a whole lot about religion - most all the books were burned before he was born - but he’s heard of Heaven, and he doesn’t think it looks quite like this. From what he’s heard, chains and inhibitor collars don’t really have a place there.

"Bart Allen. What a  _pleasure._ " 

He will not struggle. He will show no fear to the Blue Beetle, the devil that has stolen everything from him. 

He’s mute as the blue demon advances, a serrated blade taking the place of the right arm’s typical plasma cannon.

It chuckles. “Look at the meat bag trying to be stoic.  _Strong_. As if the meat bag even knows what true strength is.”

Bart doesn’t respond; he’s not going to look at it,  _he’s not_. 

"I like to play with my food, meat bag, so I’d like it very much if you’d play along."

 _Show no fear, show no fear_. 

"Very well. It seems I’m going to have to make you sing for me."

He raises the blade and before Bart can register the action, it’s digging, gouging, scraping into his chest. He still doesn’t make a sound, opting to watch the red gather at his feet. 

After the Reach symbol has been carved deeply into his chest a few dozen times, the Beetle moves to Bart’s back and does the same. 

The legs are next, and the Blue Beetle doesn’t even bother with the Reach insignia this time; it carves intricate patterns into Bart’s legs that leave no flesh untouched by blood. 

Next is the torch. 

—-

When Bart’s left achilles tendon is severed the next day, it’s all he can do to not scream. 

The Beetle pauses and turns its head slightly.

"Shut up and watch, meat bag."

The blade becomes smaller and then it’s in Bart’s mouth, scoring the pale, sunken cheek.

"Why don’t you smile for your little boyfriend, Bart Allen? Give him a show."

Crimson splatters the Blue Beetle’s chest armor as Bart chokes on blood. 

"That’s right. He can see all of this. He’s screaming right now, too,  _ese._ ”

Jaime’s Spanish in Blue Beetle’s gurgle is all too much for Bart, and he begins to thrash wildly. His mouth, now extended by four inches on the right side, is opened; it feels as though his head’s been split in two. He forces himself to close his mouth, but the salty tears pouring from his eyes don’t do much for the pain.

The Beetle leans away, nonchalant.

"He loves you, you know. You’re all the little brat thinks about.  _'I've let Bart down, I don't want to hurt Bart, mi ca-riño, mi ca-riño…”_

The Blue Beetle pauses its singsong falsetto imitation of its human host as it fixes Bart with a leer. 

"He wishes he’d kissed you when he could."

Suddenly, the Beetle is on Bart’s left, carving his mouth open again, and it’s _laughing_.

"We can’t have you asymmetrical, can we now,  _cari_ _ñ_ _o?_ ”

Bart’s eyes squeeze shut. This perversion of his friend, his  _love_ , is more than he can take. He silently curses himself; he’d heard Jaime say it under his breath one of those clear El Paso (well, fifty miles out from El Paso) nights spent stargazing. He’d asked Jaime what it meant, only for Jaime to splutter awkwardly and point out a constellation.

He’d googled it later at Barry’s and was ecstatic. He’d then had a mission in Rulasia rescuing tsunami victims, but he had resolved to confess his feelings to Jaime as soon as he got back.

Jaime wasn’t there when Bart got back. 

—-

Bart is catapulted from the relative safety of his mind when the Blue Beetle forces his jaw open, tearing a scream from the speedster as his cheeks split. 

Bart feels something bubble up through his chest, up his throat, into his ravaged mouth, and it’s

_"Jai-me."_

The Beetle stops flat, its expression one of unadulterated rage. It raises an arm to backhand Bart’s colorless face, but it cannot seem to bring the limb down. 

"Jaime Reyes, I demand you stop this. I will worsen the condition of the Impulse if you continue to impede my actions."

Bart lifts his eyes to the Beetle’s cold yellow lenses, and he swears there’s a flicker of brown behind them.

To open his mouth is to invite unimaginable pain, but he couldn’t care less.  _His Jaime_  is in there, and he’ll do anything to get him back.

_"Fight it."_

It’s barely a whisper, but he knows he’s been heard when the Blue Beetle quivers but does not move.

_"Please."_

Suddenly, the Beetle has a blade pressed to Bart’s throat.

"The Impulse will be terminated if you do not stop this immediately, Jaime Reyes."

The blade is sharp; Bart can feel droplets of blood slip into his collarbone as the pressure increases.

It barely escapes his torn lips and ravaged throat, but somehow it does:

_"Jaime."_

Green eyes lock to yellow and the yellow flickers. 

—-

The warm arm draped around Bart’s waist each morning never fails to make him smile.

It’s been ten years since The Reach were driven off Earth. Bart supposes they hadn’t factored in humanity’s innate pigheadedness. Jaime is convinced that his Bart single-handedly saved the world. 

Both are amazed by the speed at which the world has resurrected itself from dust.

Khaji Da no longer inhabits Jaime’s back. One of Dick’s friends, Stark, had managed to create a near duplicate to the scarab; however, it’s not sentient, and doesn’t supply Jaime with armor or weaponry. Stark offered to equip the chip with those capabilities, but Jaime vehemently refused. As per his request, it simply supports his life functions.

With the inhibitor collar off and an IV drip, the majority of Bart’s scars have long since faded. However, shadows of a cheshire grin remain on his freckled cheeks; when the light hits them just right, he catches Jaime’s haunted stare out of the corner of his eye.

Sometimes, he wakes to Jaime’s tears in the hollow of his neck. Those are the days they spend quietly under the redwoods and the nights they spend watching the stars. 

The apartment isn’t much, but it’s enough. They don’t do much with the League anymore. 

They’ve already saved the world once, after all.


End file.
